The Stoic Ward
by Smitten-With-Day-Dreams
Summary: Altairia Black has arrived at Hogwarts during the golden trio's third year. It is no secret she is the biological daughter of Azkaban escapee Sirius Black nor is it secret that she's Ward of Lucius Malfoy. Altairia expects things to be vexing but she could never have envisioned just how difficult life as a Slytherin Princess would be. [Rated: M for dark themes]
1. Chapter One: Welcome to Hogwarts

**Author's Acknowledgement:** I do not own any of J K Rowling's characters, plot lines or any such magic she created for her novels. This fiction will be in the point of view of my original protagonist and story lines are subject to change throughout. I hope you enjoy.

x

 **The Stoic Ward**

 **Chapter one: [Welcome to Hogwarts]**

Lady Black hesitates before an immaculate window on the east side of Malfoy Manor. Her silver eyes set ablaze as she watches the sun rise. How appropriate, she muses, that the sky should emerge burning to her on such a day as this. Altairia has no aversion towards school, in fact she favours the living arrangement of Hogwarts more than the house she presently resides in but society is strenuous – and in the light of recent media, she should expect to be mistreated from all perspectives. Sirius Black has escaped Azkaban. The serial murderer is able to prey upon wizarding England once more and of course; it cannot be coincidence that she is now to attend his old site of education, and so soon after her Mother's abrupt death. Altairia knows what they will think and they are wrong. Nothing in her life is coincidence. It is politics and that is the way of all Pure-Blood lifestyles. A constant reminder by her trembling right hand. Altairia grasps it with her left and squares her shoulders.

A familiar pop sounds from behind her but in despite of the displeasure that now twinges upon her brow – she is not stirred. Saldor says nothing as he waits patiently by the dark oak doors at the end of the corridor. Dressed in a fitting suit, he has a lifetime of experience when Altairia's silences are concerned, and his patience has not failed him now.

'Do not let this household disrespect you while I am gone, Saldor,' Altairia instructs. Saldor is as close to a family member that she has, and while he desires to remain a servant to her household, she wishes him to leave if he so wishes.

'I will not abandon you, Lady Black,' he replies, knowing her all too well. 'I have been a servant to The House of Black for a very long time. No Elf nor Malfoy will deter me from your service and your service alone.' A smile graces the youthful witch's features and she turns to view him.

'I best report to Lord Malfoy,' she says with distain. Saldor says nothing, not wishing to disrespect the owner of said Manor nor disagree with his Lady. Altairia follows him to Lord Malfoy's office and bows before leaving her alone to enter. She knocks softly on the door and is greeted by the silver haired gentleman dressed in his best robes and clutching a cane.

'Good morning, Lady Black,' he greets.

'Pleasantries to you also,' she replies, a tone of formality and nothing more. 'I apologise for my ill punctuality, Lord Malfoy. I had trouble sleeping.' Not necessarily a lie, she did not sleep well but her morning began prematurely enough to be here on time. It seems her manners are misplaced often nowadays.

'I can forgive a few minutes,' Lucius states impassively. 'However we must leave immediately.' There are no more opportunities to stall which irks Altairia but she remains mute nevertheless. Lord Malfoy assists with her ebony cloak and then apparates them to King's Cross station in London. Both persist composure as they stride through a hectic crowd under a glamour, Saldor running along behind them with Altairia's silver and mahogany suitcase shrunk down to size, and her caged owl Thorn. Lucius does not enter onto platform nine and three quarters. He bids her farewell at the station entrance, reminding her to write if she _needs_ anything and to not dishonour the Black or Malfoy name. As if she could ever forget not to, Altairia thinks bitterly.

Waiting in the station of the quartered platform lies a picturesque train. The Hogwarts Express, a true marvel. It only hosts one carriage which is more than enough for the single student. She boards and finds a secluded compartment to sit in for her journey, her eyes cast to the window while Saldor places her belongings inside the compartment.

'Safe journey, Lady Black,' Saldor wishes.

'Thank you, friend,' Altairia says, turning her head to look at him. She drops her stoic façade momentarily. 'I will miss you.'

'I will miss you also, my Lady.' They do not say goodbye. Saldor disappears as the train commences out of the station and Altairia puts her mask back in place. She does not make a noise for the entirety of her journey and her only movement is the shaking on her right hand which she holds tightly on her lap. When she reaches her destination, she rises with grace and vacates the train. Near a lit lamppost stands an older witch in velvet green robes. Her grey hair is would up tightly into a bun on the back of her head, and she wears a stern look. Altairia speculates if this woman is trying to be intimidating and decides the question is unimportant. Nobody could conquer the only expression her Mother ever wore; it was unnerving enough to make Lord Malfoy respect Altairia more than his own son.

'Good evening, Miss Black. I am Professor McGonagall. Please follow me,' the woman orders. Altairia does as she is told and silently follows, irate at herself. The righteous part of her mind tells herself that being addressed as Lady is pretentious but it always gave her authority in her life. Growing up surrounded by only Pure-Blood families, it has been the only security she is entitled to. Lady Malfoy told her that things would be different but now Altairia worries that different may not cooperate with her at all. In the days after her Mother's passing, Altairia worried she would be sent to a children's home or perhaps she too was to die. It appeared only obvious to her that her Mother had been murdered but no conversation with Professors nor family friends brought the possibility to stand. From thence, Altairia let it go. She required no justice, she was just thankful to be free of her DADA lessons. Now an orphan and Ward to House Malfoy, she is grateful her heritage has saved her from disgrace. She may continue the lifestyle she is accustom to and pursue a proper education that does not involve precautionary measure lessons.

Her reflections are quickly diminished as the castle comes into view beyond the tops of the trees. A thrill pursues her and she quickens her step behind the elder witch. A walk to the castle did not feel so vexing now that she was excited but a singular black carriage awaits her a few yards away. Altairia harnesses her enthusiasm, silently scolding herself. A hike is no activity for a Lady.

'The Headmaster will meet you at the castle,' the Professor tells her. 'You will be sorted into your house after dinner then your belongings will be taken to your dormitory.' Altairia wishes to question if Professor McGonagall will be riding with her but does not, instead she undertakes her orders and mounts the carriage. The door shuts and locks behind her and Altairia has yet to take her seat when the carriage begins to move.

'Merlin,' she cusses as she falls back into the chair. Her head thrusts back and she is left wincing after it hits the wooden back of the carriage. What an appalling mode of transportation, Altairia fumes as she grips onto the seat in order to steady herself. A piercing agony erupts in her right wrist but she grits her teeth and fares with it. Her Mother would have been furious to know her daughter had been subjected to travel in such treacherous conditions.

It took everything of Altairia's willpower to not vomit during the should-have-been short journey what with the knocks in the road and her throbbing headache. She essentially threw herself out of the open door once the carriage came to a stop. Steadying herself, she closes her eyes and draws in a long breath of fresh air.

'It would seem our carriages are not for everyone's liking,' a deep voice says, a twinge of amuse evident within. Altairia opens her eyes and instantaneously her poise is immovable, her twitch hidden beneath her cloak. She studies the old man in midnight blue robes. He has lengthy white hair and a beard to equal, and it is shaped by a hair tie midway. This is the Headmaster. Altairia observes that this wizard wears glasses on the end of his nose, perhaps more for a metaphor than optical assistance or merely reading spectacles. He is queer, she finds. Not many wizards or witches appear strange to her but this one did.

'I do not wish to offend, Headmaster,' she says, finally discovering her voice. 'I am simply not custom to travelling.' The man raises his hands and smiles.

'No offence taken,' he reassures her. 'I am Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It is with gladness that we receive your entry to our school, Miss Black.'

'Thank you.'

Professor Dumbledore gestures with his hand that she is to approach him and once Altairia walks towards him, he turns and leads her up towards the castle. They cross an extensive concrete bridge and pass through a courtyard before reaching the entrance doors. Altairia keeps her eyes on the back of her Professor as they cross through the school to a large dining hall. Four tables nearly as long as the hall itself sit with perfect spacing between them and at the end there is another table upon a few steps overlooking the rest. This is the table where staff are already seated.

'Please be seated beside me,' the Headmaster says as they ascend the steps. Altairia rounds the table behind him and takes her place. 'Staff this is Miss Black. Miss Black these are some of your Professors. But please without further delay, everyone enjoy.' Food appears on the table and it is only now Altairia is staring down at the brazed chicken that her stomach twists in pain. She unties her cloak and lets it fall from her shoulders so that she is not wearing inappropriate attire to dine in. The silver dress she currently sits in, softening out any creases, is her favourite. It has a corset covered in lace and silk flows down to her ankles, beneath her corset is a thin turquoise ribbon and upon that ribbon is a metal pin showing the Black House Crest. Her Mother always spoke fondly of this dress also, proclaiming that Altairia looked like a proper Lady in it.

No matter how Altairia wishes to ravish all of the food, she takes a polite and balanced serving with a steadied left hand while maintaining the other below the table. She listens to the light chatter of her educators, taking in little. In fact, she is quite positive the meal will come to a close without her speaking a single word until the doors open and the biggest man she's ever seen trudges in.

'Sorry 'am late,' he declares walking towards the table. 'Oh er 'ello,' he says noticing Altairia sitting among the adults.

'Good evening, Sir,' she responds.

'Miss Black, this is Hagrid. Our grounds keeper,' Headmaster Dumbledore tells her. Altairia can hear the fondness in his tone and wonders if her new Headmaster is very selective when choosing his staff members. At the boarding school she attended till she was eleven, her teachers never got along. They often played students off against one another for ridiculous gains – whether they were professional or personal it was not clear.

'Black, eh,' Hagrid says loudly, taking a seat on the other side of the black haired Professor next to her. 'Sirius' daughter.' Altairia's body felt stiff for the remaining half hour that food was present. When Headmaster Dumbledore told her that she would be sitting on a stool to have a magical hat placed upon her head, she almost laughed but didn't question the system in place. She walks across to a stool where Professor McGonagall now stands and takes her seat, crossing her ankles to the side and resting her hands appropriately. "Rule number seventeen, always sit like a Lady," her Mother would recite over the years when they would actually spend time together. So it was a poised sitting or ruler bruises, and Altairia knew which she preferred. Unbeknown to her educators, she tightly holds her right hand still.

It is unsettling to her as the hat is placed upon her head however it is not a second later when it shouts 'SLYTHERIN.' Altairia is uncertain of what this means for her but is conscious that Lord Malfoy and his son have admiration for Slytherin so it shall hold well in her favour. There are quiet claps from the staff table and once she stands again, she is greeted by the Headmaster; his blue eyes boring knowingly into her.

'I do wish you settle in swiftly,' he says. 'If there is anything you require; Professor Snape is your head of house.' He gestures to the man who has been sitting silently beside her during dinner. Professor Snape has sharp pasty features and shiny black hair. Altairia finds him familiar but that is impossible. She simply tells herself that it must be their mutual stoic expressions. Gazing upon him briefly as he inclines his head ever so slightly tells Altairia that he is a man not to be bothered therefore she will deal with whatever requirements on her own. She bows her head respectfully and looks to her Headmaster once more.

'Thank you.'

'Professor Snape will show you to the Slytherin common room and your dormitory.' Professor Snape stands as he speaks and walks towards the hall entrance. Altairia gazes at the back of him for a few seconds before collecting her cloak and curtsying graciously at her Professors. She makes sure her cloak is over her right arm as she treads after her head of house.

 **x End of Chapter One x**

 **Author's Note:** First of all, thank you for taking time to read my fan-fiction. I hope you enjoyed it. Secondly, I am open to constructive criticism; I am a genuine believer that it makes me a better writer - as long as it is constructive. If you do not like my story, there are no obligations in place that enforce you to keep reading. Lastly, I am currently looking for a beta. If you would be interested, please PM me. | SWDD |


	2. Chapter Two: Tremors

**Author's Acknowledgement:** I do not own any of J K Rowling's characters, plot lines or any such magic she created for her novels. This fiction will be in the point of view of my original protagonist and story lines are subject to change throughout. I hope you enjoy.

x

 **The Stoic Ward**

 **Chapter Two: [Tremors]**

Altairia's restlessness erodes away her serenity by dawn. Slytherin green bedsheets tear off of her in ferocity as she skims out of bed and over to her trunk of properties. With an irate waft of her unsteady hand, the trunk lid lunges upwards and she retrieves her satin toiletries purse. The benefit of arriving a day prematurely gave Altairia the opportunity to choose her dormitory - provided it was for third year ladies - and so she selected one along the corridor from the lavatory. Easily accessible but distant enough away to evade late-night conversation and shower urgencies that would inevitably disturb her.

Altairia attends to her morning bathroom obligations and after showing, she positions herself bare before a full-length mirror. Her immaculate frosty skin drips moist crystals as she watches her young chest ascend and drop. It must appear so ordinary for other girls her age but in her circumstance, developing means becoming a woman, and that unavoidably equals betrothal. Altairia casts a drying charm and steps closer to her reflection. The bruises under eyes are disgraceful, she appears positively weak. It will not do. It takes little time to dress herself in a wine-red gown, complementary high-heeled footwear and her outdoor cloak. Returning to her possessions, she selects a leather holdall and carries it to her bed.

Opening the briefcase, the adolescent witch once again faces her own image. Silver eyes look down in avoidance. In the body of the case are pallet rows of natural-coloured cosmetics. Her Mother had gifted the set to Altairia on her tenth birthday, she was to appear beautiful to her honoured guests after all. Having years of proficiency, Altairia conceals the darkness above her cheek-bones. She emphasises her eyes and her lips as instructed, and finds solace in her appearance once her ebony black hair is styled in a half-up braided crown. Perfect.

Breakfast is a relief to witness after a morning of righting her appearance though as she approaches the staff table, Altairia finds she is very overdressed. Still, she does not let her discomfort display. Instead, she curtseys respectfully before Headmaster Dumbledore and strides around the table with her head high to assemble at his side.

'Good morning, Miss Black,' Headmaster Dumbledore says as her left hand is handed a plate of pancakes. Altairia's stomach groans in approval and she almost takes one.

 _"_ _Put that back, Altairia," Victoria Burke demands, slapping her daughter's hand. The three young girls sitting around the table with Altairia giggle, trying to be discreet and failing miserably. "Cupcakes are for fat children. Are you fat?"_

 _"_ _No, Mother," she replies, humiliation burning in her eyes._

At the completion of the formal, Mrs Bennett handed Altairia a cupcake to take home but spite had consumed her after her Mother's earlier mortification so she tenaciously ate it while her Mother was watching. It was not until they arrived home that the child realised it had not been worth it as her Mother forced her fingers down Altairia's throat.

Altairia passes the tray along to Professor Snape and reaches for a bowl of fruit, mentally constructing an argument with her late Mother. The word "psychopath" has a frequent reoccurrence. Hagrid arrives to the table as a few professors are leaving. When he falls down into his chair, he knocks the table forwards and Professor Snape's goblet is tossed towards him. Altairia's hands snipe out to steady the refreshment before liquid falls but is only in time to save a small amount. She looks to Professor Snape regretfully, preparing to apologise as the contents drip onto his robes but her head of house is not paying any notice to his beverage. His eyes are set on Altairia's shaking hand. Comprehending, she places it beneath the table swiftly and black eyes rise to meet silver.

'Oh, er- sorry, Professor Snape,' Hagrid says, causing Altairia to look away from her Professor and go back to eating her fruit. Professor Snape merely snorts in distain, stands and stalks out of the hall, his robes flailing behind him. Perhaps he ought to buy some proper fitted ones.

After breakfast, Altairia decides she will explore some of the castle while the corridors are vacant; preferring to be inside rather than the opposing options due to the grey clouds and light drizzle. She glides her way through stony corridors to the library, slanting her head respectfully at the wrinkled librarian who simply ogles her through squinted eyelids. Countless amounts of books surrounding her reminds Altairia of home, not the lifeless apartment in Manhattan but Burke Manor in France. Growing up, she would devote hours to reading, yearning to neglect her world and acquire someone else's. Pacing among the ceiling-to-floor length shelves offers relaxation, she nearly feels safe. Trailing her forefinger across book spines, Altairia slowly paces her way to the far end of the library; gazing at a circular table placed in the right corner alongside a painted window. Altairia cannot believe how faultless this haven is for her to revise in outside of her dormitory and a virtually concealed place to keep her presence low. Altairia awaits nothing less than rumours and belittling comments once her parentage is public knowledge. Her only concern is that she will react poorly and dishonour Lord Malfoy. Altairia harbours little fondness for the senior Malfoy but he has been considerate in allowing her to stay at his home and that is unrepayable; she will not give him reason to regret his decision.

Knowing Lunch starts a twelve, Altairia elects to confirm all locations of her classrooms by visiting them before she advances to the hall. She selects chicken salad and pumpkin juice, maintaining her eyes downcast; uncomfortably aware of the vacant seat beside her.

'Professor Snape has businesses to attend to, he will be back in time for the feast this evening,' Headmaster Dumbledore explains. Altairia nods once, acknowledging his words. She fears that he has drawn assumptions from her hand, perhaps he has knowledge with such things and if that is the case; he will want to talk to her. That is something Altairia does not want at all. 'A letter arrived before you entered.' A letter for her? Altairia cannot help gazing warily at the envelope Headmaster Dumbledore hands to her. Uncertain of who is the precipitant, she tucks the paper into the pocket of her cloak in case there are words she is required to read alone.

After her tedious meal, Altairia strolls back to her dormitory. She is aware that the feast requires her school robes so she will dress appropriately now and read until it is time to make her way back. The rain is falling heavily outside as she ascends the staircase, the echoes ricocheting off walls. Inside her room, she stands by her bed and removes the message from concealment. The back of the envelope has Lucius Malfoy's seal.

 _|Dear Lady Black,_

 _I expect you have settled in._

 _Draco will arrive this evening and has been informed you are to be seated alongside him during the feast._

 _Lucius Malfoy_

 _Lord of Malfoy Manor|_

Her response is not required so she does not write one. For the remainder of her afternoon, Altairia organises her trunk and reads Libatius Borage's Advanced Potion Making until the sky darkens. Donning her school robes, she assures herself they fit perfectly by returning to the mirror in the lavatory. They conceal her figure but are pristine and flow to the floor with conviction. She cannot prevent herself from smiling as she compares the school mandatory attire to Professor Snape's own robes.

Altairia enters the hall as it is currently filling with students of various ages. Scanning the tables for her house colours, she finds Draco Malfoy watching her from the table furthest to the right. She walks over to him and takes her seat beside him, sticking to Lucius' wishes. Draco is a masculine boy with broad shoulders, pallid skin and strong cheek bones. She has experienced barely any time in his presence and hopes he is similar to her so that they may get along.

'Good evening, Draco,' she says politely.

'Good evening, Lady Black,' he replies, matching her formality.

'Please call me Altairia.' She smiles kindly at him and looks to the other students sitting across the table. They are both gaping shamelessly, one is a girl with a black bob and the other a tall boy with square features.

'You must be Draco's Ward,' the girl says forcefully, tilting her head.

'Ward entails a child is under the care or control of a guardian. I can assure you, Draco is not old enough,' Altairia corrects her, obtaining a chortle from said boy beside her.

'Altairia, these are my friends. Pansy Parkinson and Gregory Goyle,' Draco informs her.

'A pleasure,' Altairia says. Pansy wears a sickly smile. Altairia turns her attention to the staff table to see Professor Snape is indeed present and his eyes are upon her. The table has now been divided in two, her head of house sits on the right side next to a Professor she has not seen before now. He has old robes and disorderly brown locks of hair.

The hall falls soundless as younger children are sorted into their houses, following the system of the moving hat that Altairia too was subjected to yesterday. Watching their noses flush as the school stares in anticipation, Altairia is glad she did not have to be sorted alongside them. When it is finished, the school choir sings, accompanied by toads. Altairia glances across the student body unobtrusively but nobody else seems to find the sight peculiar at all. A custom she has never had the opportunity to experience, she supposes.

Headmaster Dumbledore approaches the golden eagle podium with widespread arms.

'Welcome, welcome to another year at Hogwarts,' he exclaims. 'Now I would like to say a few words before we all become too befuddled by our excellent feast. First, I'm pleased to welcome Professor R. J. Lupin who has kindly consented to fill the post as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Good luck Professor.' Altairia watches as the new Professor stands to take a bow. He looks beyond uncomfortable with such attention. This is unquestionably his first teaching role, and how fortunate for he that it is her most loathed lecture.

Draco twists away from the Slytherin table to speak quietly to another student on the neighbouring table. Altairia cannot help but overhear.

'Potter. Potter! Is it true you fainted? You actually fainted?' Altairia does not keep her eyes from rolling as her familiar acquaintance ridicules this Potter to attain social gain. His Father would be furious to witness his Heir act so childishly surrounded in public.

'Shove off, Malfoy,' a red head scowls. Draco and his friends chuckle until the silver haired schoolboy faces Altairia. The dispassionate expression on her face silences his hilarity. Altairia returns to Headmaster Dumbledore as he announces Rubeus Hagrid the new Professor of Care of Magical Creatures. Altairia claps, conscious that only a few other Slytherin students do so.

'Finally,' the Headmaster continues. 'I got a request from the ministry of magic,' his expression turns sombre. 'Hogwarts will until further notice play host to the Dementors of Azkaban until Sirius Black is captured.' Altairia does not miss how many seated Professors glance at her, even Draco squirms in his seat as students all over the hall repeat the dark wizard's name. 'The Dementors will be stationed at every entrance to the grounds. Now whilst I have been assured their presence will not disrupt our day to day activities. A word of caution, Dementors are vicious creatures, they will not distinguish between the one they hunt and the one who gets in their way.

Therefore, I must warn each and every one of you, give them no reason to harm you. It is not in the nature of a Dementor to be forgiving.' If they are so ruthless, it is a wonder Sirius Black ever escaped in the first place. 'But you know, happiness can be found even in the darkest of times,' he continues, his tone lighter. He waves his hand behind a candle and the flame extinguishes. 'One only remembers to turn on the light.' How cliché, Altairia inwardly groans. It is no wonder he appears so odd; the man is mad.

The evening drags. Altairia cannot eat as they do, cramming their faces as if they have never seen food before so it is a relief when Headmaster Dumbledore dismisses them. She walks swiftly through the corridors with Draco at her side. His friends have fallen behind due to the haste all students had for exiting the hall and now Altairia finds him more agreeable. He walks proudly, his expression no longer unkind but impartial and he is not distressed when Altairia places her hand around his upper arm, compelling them to walk closely together.

As the pair near Professor Snape's classroom, the door opens and their raven haired Professor stares blankly.

'Miss Black, a word,' he says, halting the duo.

'Of course, Professor,' Altairia smiles out of politeness.

'She will see you tomorrow, Mr Malfoy.' Draco speaks not a word as he is dismissed, he hastens along the corridor to the common room entrance. Altairia steps inside the Potions classroom and gazes in awe at the prudently placed ingredients throughout the laboratory. She is lured over to a jar of bat blood but does not touch. 'I did not call your attendance for you to loiter, Miss Black,' Professor Snape retorts. Altairia sees he is now sitting at his desk at the forefront of the classroom, she approaches him promptly.

'My apologies, Professor. I have never seen so many…' she prevents herself from speaking unnecessarily and waits patiently for him to address.

'You are aware I have noticed the tremor of your right hand,' he speaks carefully. Though it is phrased like a question, Altairia feels it wiser to stay mute until her Professor has finished what he has prepared to say. Instead, she inclines her head in acknowledgement. 'How did it come about?'

'I was born with it, Professor,' Altairia replies, a lie she has perfected in speaking for many years but this man in particular looked far from believing her.

'Do not insult me, child,' he snarls. 'Ten points from Slytherin, get out.' Altairia clenches her teeth so that she does not speak out of term, all she desires to do is remind him that her personal life is none of his damn business but she does not. She grants him a stiff curtsey and exits his classroom, allowing the door to slam behind her.

x

 **Author's Note:** Thank you to Vmorales, MaxandThalia and SophiaNevermore for following (and favouriting). It means a lot!


	3. Chapter Three: Daily Prophet

**Author's Acknowledgement:** I do not own any of J K Rowling's characters, plot lines or any such magic she created for her novels. This fiction will be in the point of view of my original protagonist and story lines are subject to change throughout. I hope you enjoy.

 **The Stoic Ward**

x

 **Chapter Three: [Daily Prophet]**

 _"_ _Wrong," Victoria Burke shouts, thwacking her daughter's red knuckles with a long wooden ruler. "If you do not get this right, Defence classes will be extended by one hour," she threatens. Altairia's lower lip trembles as she begins again, her fingers aching with each key she presses down. A whimper escapes as her finger slips to the wrong key. "Senseless child." Thwack. "I pay for these lessons and look at you, a disgrace."_

 _"_ _I'm sorry, Mummy," Altairia weeps. Thwack._

 _"_ _What have I told you about abbreviations, Altairia?" Altairia's tears blot her cheeks red as her chest heaves. "Speak when you are spoken to, child!"_

 _"_ _I am not to use them," she sobs._

 _"_ _What are you also_ _ **not**_ _to do?"_

 _"_ _Call you Mummy."_

 _"_ _You are not a mindless little brat, Altairia. You are a Lady. Sophistication and composure is all you will ever need to know. Now sit up straight, stop crying and get this right!"_

Altairia was scarcely six-years-old when Victoria broke her knuckle. The ache lingers when Altairia sits at a piano, loathing the sight of it. Fortuitously, she was permitted to sell her Mother's belongings when the merciless bitch died. The piano was the first to go.

'Is everything all right?' Carina Starling asks, lightly touching Altairia's shoulder. The new student nods and recompenses her new associate with a gentle smile. The four ladies sharing Altairia's dormitory are unexpectedly pleasant. They do not disturb her and when Carina requested her name the prior evening, she said nought appalling when Altairia answered truthfully. That alone makes her favourable company.

The two of them pace in silence down to the main hall for breakfast. Altairia sits between Draco and Carina, the latter has barely sat down before she is helping herself to food. Draco and Altairia do not speak for the most part of the morning meal, he is preoccupied with Pansy sitting on his left who Altairia hears giggling every few minutes. It must be love; she smirks to herself. Owls fly in carrying post and various items are dropped over the table including a letter for Altairia, Draco receives a replica indicating to Altairia that they are from Lucius. Carina obtains a parcel and a newspaper, choosing the gift to inspect first. However, before the girl so much as glances at her paper, Altairia seizes it. Her baby pictures are on the front page surrounding Sirius Black's Azkaban portrait. She inhales brashly, biting her tongue so that she does not utter the cusses she wishes to screech. How dare they?

'What is it?' Carina asks, inspecting the headline over Altairia's shoulder. 'Those vultures!'

'Vultures?' Draco inquires, turning to the duo. His eyes solidify on Altairia's strained features. As other students across the hall read the Daily Prophet, whispers become more than so and Altairia can hear her name on every student's lips. Draco takes the paper from Altairia as she lets it nearly slide to the table. His eyes examine the body of text and he tosses it down.

'It was going to come out sooner or later,' Pansy says, holding another copy in her hands.

'Be quiet, Pansy,' Draco orders. 'Would you like to leave?' He questions Altairia, she shakes her head slowly.

'It will only acquire more attention and I cannot look guilty. He is a biological factor in my existence, nothing more. This article is lying.'

'Anybody who reads this trash knows that, Altairia,' Carina says, keeping her head down. Altairia takes little solace in her friend's comment considering the mass of the school's populace subscribe to the publication. She succeeds in eating a small amount of fruit, overlooking students that crave her attention and the pitying looks she obtains from Slytherin students nearby.

Draco walks closely by her side on the way to their first lesson which is Divination. She ensures she has a chair at the back of the classroom however eyes still linger on her, the red head and his friend Potter are in her lesson she notices as Draco glowers at the pair of them. Whatever strives her familiar's loathing is deep rooted, she figures.

'Welcome my children,' their female Professor says loudly, hushing the light prattle. 'In this room, you shall explore a noble art of Divination. In this room, you shall discover you possess the sight.' She rises and steps forwards, bumping the small table placed in front of her. Embarrassed, the Professor clutches at the surface to stop items from tumbling over. 'Hello,' she says quietly. 'I am Professor Trelawney. Together we shall cast ourselves into the future.' Altairia finds her just as eccentric as her Headmaster and is not surprised that he would hire such a bizarre character to teach. Perhaps seeing the future makes you marginally insane. The wild-haired Professor elevates her arms as she paces over to the window; her hands wave as if to emphasise her peculiar speech. 'This term we shall be focusing on Tessomancy which is the art of reading tea leaves so please take the cup of the person sitting opposite you.'

Altairia yields Draco's cup and he collects her own. How is that this china can deduct a subjective future when they have not even laid their hands upon their own? The cynical girl looks into the bottom of Draco's briefly, not able to decipher anything in particular.

'The truth lies deep like a sentence within a book, it needs to be read but first you must broaden your minds.' Altairia decrees that this class is to be taken the least sincerely. The Professor has demonstrated the loss of her mind therefore there should not be much contemplation spared for such inefficient practices. Professor Trelawney places her hands upon the head on a male student. What is she doing? 'First, you must look beyond.' She turns and throws her hands up, instigating most of the class to look at where she has motioned to. As if speaking her mind, Altairia overhears a brunette girl speak.

'What a load of rubbish.' She is deskbound between Potter and the red head at their small circular table nearer the front. Altairia's eyes narrow on the back of the bushy haired girl. She was not there a moment ago yet nobody else seems to have noticed her late arrival. A teacher's favourite, she reasons.

'What a waste of time,' Draco says, placing the cup down on the clothed table. 'Are you honestly interested in me reading your tea leaves?'

'No,' Altairia answers, putting the cup in her hand down also. 'I wonder if your Father has had to partake in such exercises. I ought to laugh at his attitude towards this education we're receiving.'

'Broaden your minds,' Professor Trelawney cries out to the schoolroom once more.

'Broaden your mind, Altairia,' Draco says seriously, the Slytherin students regard one another before laughing.

'Stop it,' she scolds, trying her best not to smile. 'You will get us in trouble.' Altairia turns to observe Professor Trelawney has stopped and is presently speaking to the red headed boy, one glance at Draco shows her that he too is interested. 'Are you in the beyond? I think you are.'

'Sure,' the red head stammers. Draco mocks.

'Look at the cup. Tell me what you see.'

'Oh yeah, um. Well, um, Harry's got sort of a wonky cross… that's suffering.' Their Professor merely hums at his deduction. This is ludicrous. 'And er, and that could be the sun so that's happiness. So er, you're gonna suffer but you're gonna be happy about it.'

'Give me the cup.' By now, many students are gazing at the exchange between their professor and this boy. He hands the cup to her and as soon as she previews the inside of it, she shrieks and backs away, clutching her chest. She gapes at Potter. 'Boy,' she whimpers, so flustered she cannot speak correctly. 'My dear, you have… The Grim.'

'Of course he does,' Draco sneers. Altairia shoots him a discontented expression, she doubts by any means that this Grim is a good thing. For Draco to be jealous is beyond impractical.

'The grin? What's The grin?' A boy with a northern accent asks, yelling across the classroom.

'Not the grin, you idiot. The Grim,' Professor Trelawney corrects.

'Taking form of a giant dog, it's among the darkest omens in our world. It's an omen of death,' an alternative boy on the opposite side of the classroom reads; the except is from their text book. How fascinating that it is only their first lesson and someone has already been told they are going to die. Draco snorts when he notices the expression of disbelief on Altairia's face.

As the bell chimes, Draco assists Altairia down the stone staircase towards the forest, carrying what looked like a spider stretched around a library book. It moves and snarls too often for Altairia to take kindly towards it. Care of Magical Creatures should be fascinating and she hopes for all of their sake that it is far more educational than her previous lesson.

Once at the foot of the hill, Altairia sees Hagrid outside what looks to be a rounded shed, looming above the heads of his students.

'That's it, come on now,' he says. 'Come closer. Less talking if y' don't mind. A've got a real treat for y' today. A great lesson.' He nods as if reassuring himself and Altairia cannot help but feel hopeful for him, this is evidently a class he wants to go down well; however, his uneasiness makes her worry. 'So follow me.' They track him into the forest to a clearing, thin trees are dispersed and light shines brightly through.

Draco passes over her book and she gazes after him as he walks some distance away, regrouping with his friends. Though she is entirely content to not share his friendships, she does wish Carina had not been feeling nauseous. Her friend travelled straight to the infirmary after Divination, claiming to not feel right. Altairia hopes her friend does not believe in such absurdity. Nothing wrong will happen and if something were to, they would not unearth it in the bottom of a mug. 'Right you lot, less chatterin'. Form a group over there, open your books to page 49.'

'How exactly do we do that?' Draco asks.

'Well just stroke the spine, o' course,' Hagrid says as if it should be common knowledge. Altairia frowns at the back of him, there is no need to treat students like they are incapable of such tasks when they have not been instructed on how to undertake them. Hagrid saunters away from the group of children, muttering to himself. Draco inspects his book with contempt and starts stroking it. Altairia copies, only needing to do so twice before the latch opens. As they tread towards the wall where Hagrid has ordered them to gather, a boy in Gryffindor robes falls to the ground with the book snapping open and shut in a vicious manner. Instead of offering help, students continue to walk past him while laughing.

'Don't be such a wimp, Longbottom,' says the northern boy she heard speak earlier in Divination.

'I'm okay… okay,' the boy says, Longbottom must be his last name. At least, Altairia hopes so. The book thrashes about and knocks him back into the floor. The Slytherin strides over to him, grasping the book sternly and grooming the spine with the palm of her hand until it settles. Longbottom looks up at her as she has three heads. It seems time will be taken before anyone will trust in her intentions. She exhales and hands the book back to him before she continues on her way to join the others. Draco glowers with displeasure, not missing her act of humanity towards a Gryffindor. Altairia simply smiles and stops a few paces in front with her back to him.

'I think they're funny,' the girl from her former class says aloud, the one who she did not notice enter.

'Oh yeah, very funny,' Draco sneers, talking forcefully to attract attention. Altairia moves out of the way when the class turn to watch him. 'God this place has gone to the dogs. Wait until my Father hears Dumbledore has got this oaf teaching classes.' Altairia cannot believe he would speak in such a manner regarding his educator. What could Lucius do? Write a displeased letter to Headmaster Dumbledore? Draco seems to be under the impression his Father has authority universally, what a sore revelation it will be when Daddy does not coming running to his every whim. Unsurprisingly, Draco's friend Goyle laughs. He is the only one who thinks Draco funny.

'Shut up, Malfoy,' Potter shouts. He looks unfazed as Draco, Goyle and a shorter boy all jeer sardonically. Draco releases his bag onto said shorter boy with a smirk across his face. Arrogance, he is consumed with arrogance. Altairia internally pouts, why could not he have been quiet? Must he stand in the centre of attention like a spoiled child? Draco saunters closer to the boy in glasses now that a crowd has formed around them. When he approaches, his eyes turn up and he looks startled. He points to the sky shouting,

"Dementor, Dementor!" The crowd all turn, including Potter to look; gasping as one.

Draco and his friends laugh, pulling their robe hoods up and making ghost noises when Potter turns back to face them. Bushy girl from earlier puts her arm around him to lead him away, sneering at the Slytherin students.

Professor Hagrid clears his throat to get the classes attention. Everyone silences as he presents a beast that looks half bird and half horse.

'Duh du-du-dah. Isn't he beautiful?' He tosses the beast some kind of dead animal for it to rip into. 'Say hello to Buckbeak.'

'Hagrid, exactly what is that?' The red head asks, afraid.

'That Ron, is a Hippogriff.' Ron. 'First thing y'll want to know about a Hippogriff is that they're very proud creatures. Very easily offended. You do not want to insult a Hippogriff; it may jus' be the last thing y' ever do.' Between Dementors and Hippogriffs, Altairia cannot imagine how dangerous Sirius Black could be in comparison. It would be foolish of him to turn up at such a school. 'Now, who would like to come an' say hello?'

As most students step backwards, Altairia is pushed into the back of Draco who she glares at when he turns around.

'Well done, Harry. Well done.' Harry, the messy haired boy with glasses, turns to look at the rest of the student body with a very confused face, unaware that he has volunteered himself. Ron shoves him forwards when he stalls. 'Now, y' have to let 'im make the first move. It's only polite. Stop, give 'im a nice bow and then y' wait to see if he bows back. If 'e does, y' can go and touch him. If not, well…we'll get t' that later.' As Professor Hagrid is saying this, Harry continues to walk towards the creature. If he dies at the hoof of this Hippogriff, Altairia realises she will have to apologise to Professor Trelawney after all.

Altairia and the rest of the class watch as Harry stops a few metres away from the Hippogriff and bows, his robes touching the forest floor. Buckbeak looks irate at first, going up on his back legs and waving his wings. He squawks loudly, alarming the crowd of students. Even Professor Hagrid instructs Harry to move backwards. Harry does as he is told and a twig snaps loudly, Altairia winces.

Harry is told to keep still and everyone waits in anticipation as the Hippogriff decides what to do. Eventually it bows and Hagrid is very happy with the outcome.

'Well done, Harry. Well done.' He rewards Buckbeak with more food. 'Ay, y' big bird.' Harry stands up right, and Altairia cannot blame him if he desires to move as far away as possible after that tense greeting. 'Y' can go an' pet him now. Go on. Don't be shy.' Harry is hesitant in approaching the Hippogriff.

Altairia watches Draco move from in front of her. He and his posse walk over to get a better view, pushing other students out of the way. Some of which moan about being hurt but Draco says nothing. It is then that Altairia realises that Draco Malfoy is a bully. There is no doubt about it. This is not just house rivalry with a boy who will not stand for it. She grimaces and looks elsewhere, unsure as to how she should go about him. Draco is a suitor, as bizarre as that may be to a thirteen-year-old. There is a prospect that she may marry him one day despite them being third cousins but how could she? He is shallow and cruel, and she wishes to be no part in his tedious antics.

'Nice and slow there, nice and slow.' Harry extends his arm out to touch the Hippogriff and it advances as if to bite him. 'Not so fast, Harry. Slow down. That's it.' Harry reaches out again and walks onwards, slower than before. 'Now let 'im come t' you.' The silver Hippogriff advances on Harry and places his beak against Harry's hand. 'Yes, well done. Well done, Harry.' All of Gryffindor that are present clap and Altairia does too. 'I think 'e might let y' ride him now.'

'What?' Harry asks, stunned.

Professor Hagrid lifts Harry and carts him onto the back of the Hippogriff, all the while Harry is trying to convince the educator otherwise but their Professor is having none of it. This is unacceptable. Harry did as he was told, he should not be subjected to ride the beast if he wishes otherwise. He could actually get hurt on the back of that _thing_.

'Don't pull out any of 'is feathers; 'e won't thank you for that.' Professor Hagrid smacks the behind of the Hippogriff and Harry falls forward, clutching his arms around the creature's neck as it runs. He screams as it lifts off into the air and disappears atop the trees. Insanity. The entire school is engulfed in insanity. It will be a miracle if any of them live to see the end of the term let alone the year. Altairia cannot believe how carefree their Professor is as he saunters about, completely unaware of where Buckbeak has taken Harry and if he is still riding on it and has not fallen to his death; preposterous!

x

 **Author's Note:** Thank you to Charmed2100, Chocolover27, Italian Mafia and georgiaLOVESturtles for following (and favouriting). It means a lot!


End file.
